


fall from grace

by indiavolojones



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiavolojones/pseuds/indiavolojones
Summary: “Before you do anything stupid that involvesmy permanent workon your body,“ the distaste radiating off of Lucifer is palpable, "Try an ear piercing first. It’s plenty shocking to you business types, and a helluva lot less painful.”“So, what do you say, Lucifer?”(The Modern!AU with no magic where Diavolo owns a tattoo parlor. Lucifer gets disowned and tries to get a tattoo.)
Relationships: Diavolo/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 193





	fall from grace

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt on tumblr: teenage lucifer rebels against his super strict dad (lol) by going to diavolo's tattoo parlour to get a body piercing.
> 
> (ノ°∀°)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

“ _Huh_ ,” Diavolo tilts his head, “I would have never guessed you were over eighteen.” 

Lucifer’s ID shows none of the telltale signs of forgery, nor does the man look like a teenager. Diavolo just likes to have fun with people that seem too serious for their own good. 

Besides, it would be impossible for Diavolo to misjudge the man in front of him as a child—there are no children with eyes as hard-edged as Lucifer’s. Lucifer’s drenched coat is slung over his arm, the layers beneath thankfully still dry. His long hair is twisted up in a messy, haphazard bun—something about this man makes Diavolo think this is unusual. Probably the impeccably tailored, expensive-looking vest and suit jacket. The watch peeking out from underneath his shirt sleeve is worth at least a couple hundred dollars, if Diavolo’s instincts are right. Minutes within meeting Lucifer and he already knows that this is a man that takes an incredible amount of pride into his appearance. 

Lucifer narrows his eyes, but the effect is less than intimidating to Diavolo, who has faced far worse than _mean looks_. Besides, the dark, exaggerated bags under his eyes can’t lie. The proud jut of his chin and squaring of his shoulders be damned; Diavolo can sense his bluff a mile away. Lucifer is more likely to pass out from exhaustion than start a brawl. 

“What an _interesting_ business model, insulting your potential clients like this.” Lucifer retorts, and Diavolo thinks he’s probably terrifying when he’s had at least eight hours of sleep.

“There are plenty of other tattoo parlors around town,” Diavolo offers with another disarming smile, his arms crossing. An asshole customer is an asshole customer, no matter how pretty their mouth is. 

“No,” Lucifer insists, “It has to be this one.” 

“Okay… Then you’re going to need to relax a little, because it’s not often that I have people come in during a storm demanding a full back tattoo out of nowhere,” Diavolo shrugs, passing Lucifer’s ID back to him. 

“I wouldn’t do any work on you today anyway. You haven’t paid the deposit and we haven’t had a consultation meeting. Sorry, it’s my policy.” Diavolo shrugs, not very sorry all and Lucifer can tell. Lucifer looks like he’s about to spin on his heel and march out the door, and Diavolo, damn his soft heart, holds up his hands.

“But… if you’d like, we can set you up for a piercing session. We’ve got an open slot and I’ll give you a returning customer’s discount." 

"I want the tattoo.” Lucifer says, like Diavolo’s stupid for offering anything else and he has to stamp down his own mild tinge of annoyance. 

“And I get that. If you can afford my rates, I’m willing to discuss.” Damn it, Diavolo knows the man is trouble, but Lucifer’s mouth is so pretty when it frowns, as if affronted at the possibility of him not being able to pay. “But I can tell this is some kind of act of rebellion. I see types like you all the time.”

“Types like me—” Lucifer repeats, suddenly furious, and Diavolo holds his hands up placatingly. 

“ _Hear me out_.” He says, and Lucifer’s mouth snaps shut at the interruption. 

“You’d have to be blind to not see that this is part of some… bigger thing for you,” Diavolo gestures at all of Lucifer, “And you’re an adult that can make your own decisions. But for now, before you do anything stupid that involves _my permanent work_ on your body,” the distaste radiating off of Lucifer is palpable, “Try an ear piercing first. It’s plenty shocking to you business types, and a helluva lot less painful. So, what do you say, Lucifer?”

Lucifer doesn’t look keen on it, but he at least seems to be seriously mulling over Diavolo’s offer. 

More time passes where Diavolo grows more and more convinced that Lucifer is about to tell him to fuck off and walk out of his life. At this point, it would probably be for the best. Diavolo is a sucker for sullen, gorgeous businessmen with obvious emotional baggage—not that he’d realized that until a scant ten minutes ago, but Diavolo’s always been a bit of a masochist. 

As if the day’s events have finally, truly weighed down on him, with a barely visible slump to his shoulders, Diavolo _sees_ when Lucifer relents before he hears it. 

“Fine.”

Barbatos’ workstation is immaculate as ever, and the other works with maximum efficiency to prep his required instruments. 

“You’re the one that pierced my brother, Mammon,” Lucifer says, and something in Diavolo’s brain clicks. Mammon. Lucifer’s brother is _Mammon_ —the very thought almost makes Diavolo burst into laughter. 

Barbatos is nothing if not polite as he tips his head to the side, as if trying to remember Mammon. He snaps his gloved fingers, and nods. 

“Ah, yes! He’s the one that passed out, I believe.” Lucifer looks strangely… delighted by that. 

“I’ll be over there, then,” Diavolo says, leaning against the door frame and gesturing back behind him at the front office. Diavolo almost laughs again when he sees the clear alarm in Lucifer’s eyes, can hear the silent _why aren’t you doing it_ before it’s said out loud. 

“Barbatos is one of the best piercers I’ve ever worked with, you’re in expert hands,” Diavolo hums, soothing. 

It somehow works, because Lucifer is lowering himself into Barbatos’ chair. Not a word escapes from Lucifer as Barbatos finishes prepping the earrings, two black studs that Lucifer had chosen from Diavolo’s display case. Lucifer actually looks a little pale, and Diavolo thinks it’s _adorable_.

“Unless… you’d like me to hold your hand, if you’re scared?” He teases, and Lucifer’s eyes narrow in purposefully unconcealed fury for one beautiful, brief moment. It shutters away as fast as it comes, and Lucifer is staring impassively at the wall before him. 

“You may leave.” Lucifer dismisses Diavolo.

Diavolo hangs out, just to be a dick. Lucifer does not flinch, or sway in his resolve past that one moment of weakness. Barbatos finishes one ear—Lucifer does not react in the slightest—and moves to the next. He tilts Lucifer’s head gently to get better access, and it makes Lucifer have to look at Diavolo in the doorway. Diavolo gives him a brilliant smile, but Lucifer glares at him the entire time. 

Diavolo loves it. 

Diavolo doesn’t see Lucifer for one week; but he hasn’t received any terrible reviews on Yelp, and no department official has come knocking down his door with a surprise audit, so he thinks he’s in the clear. All in all, he chalks the experience up to some kind of weird twist of fate. He’s perched on a stool behind the register at the display case when the automatic doorbell chimes. Diavolo’s lips part to welcome the guest even before he looks up. 

“Hey, how’s it— _oh_ ,” Diavolo says, finally glancing up from his newspaper, “You got bangs.” 

Gone is the messy, windswept bun that Lucifer had his long hair tossed into, and instead, a short, layered cut has replaced it. It makes him look younger, somehow. Or maybe he’s just gotten more sleep. Lucifer reaches up to card a hand through his hair, pushing the now loose strands out of his face.

Diavolo spares a moment of silence to mourn that he never got to see how long Lucifer’s hair was in person, “It looks nice.” 

He places his cheek in one palm, grinning at his client. It would be easy to miss the light blush on Lucifer’s cheeks at his comments, but Diavolo is more perceptive than most. 

The blush on Lucifer’s cheeks intensifies, and he coughs into his fist. “Thank you. The hair was a nuisance, so I cut it off.” 

Silence passes, and Lucifer blinks, as if he’s not quite sure why he overshared. Diavolo takes pity on him, and tries to continue the conversation.

“How are your ears healing, then? Are you—”

“I’d like to set up a consultation meeting.” Lucifer breathes, and Diavolo blinks at him. Then he sighs. 

“Before that… I suppose I should apologize for my impudence the other day, _Mr. Morningstar_.” Diavolo says, finally, elbows propped up on the glass counter. He watches for Lucifer’s reaction like a hawk. 

“How did you—” Lucifer’s lips remain tight, before realization dawns behind his eyes. “You saw my ID the other day." 

He glares, no doubt wondering if Diavolo gone to the press with information of his spontaneous request. It would be like dumping chum into shark infested waters for them to hear how the otherwise resolutely tight-lipped eldest brother is doing. Too many people are already trying to pick at the man’s psyche for more garbage to feed the greedy masses. 

“I barely even noticed your last name,” Diavolo waves his hand in the air dismissively, “However… it’s a little hard to ignore a face like yours when it’s been plastered all over the news,” Diavolo spins the newspaper around, sliding it across to show the grainy picture of Lucifer and three of his younger brothers at the last company gala. Lucifer’s proud, intimidating stare is unmistakable in its intensity. 

The headline ‘ **FALL FROM GRACE:** _Lucifer Morningstar Leaves Celestial Industries over Disinheritance Scandal with Brothers_ ’ stretches across the page in blocky, damning font. 

"I didn’t reach out to any media outlets. You can relax,” Diavolo huffs, “But really? Your first move after all this is to go and _get a tattoo_?" 

“Do all of your consultations feel like interrogations?” Lucifer shoots back, lips turned down in a frown. He does not look down at the article, his gaze keeping level with Diavolo’s.

Diavolo laughs, and holds his hands up, “No, not really. I only try to make sure my clients understand that this is too permanent and expensive of a decision to make on an emotional bender. Tattoo removal is possible, but it’s costly.” Diavolo lets his own eyes narrow in the slightest, “Considering you don’t have the fortune of a multi-billion dollar corporation to fund your whims anymore, I doubt you’d have the money to spare if this is something you regret.” 

“Why are you antagonizing me over this,” Lucifer grits out, hands fisted at his sides. 

“I take _pride_ in my work, Morningstar.” Diavolo stands, inherently pleased to see that Lucifer’s furious gaze has to tilt up in the slightest to continue meeting his eyes, “I have no desire to see someone else’s terrible work slapped over something I created." 

"If you get paid, what does it matter?” Lucifer spits, clearly reaching his wit’s end. Diavolo stares at him, silent, and Lucifer shuts his eyes. He exhales through his nose for strength, and cards a hand through his hair again, clearly unused to it still. When he speaks, his tone is genuine, and he sounds tired. 

“I apologize,” Diavolo blinks, not expecting the other to deflate as they have. When his eyes open again, they are alight with a fervor that Diavolo’s breath catches at. “I have had…. An _interesting_ week.” His smile is wry, too tangled up with hidden meanings that Diavolo isn’t sure if he should consider it a smile at all. 

“I understand that this is permanent. As permanent as being disinherited publicly.” Lucifer’s stare is unflinching, his resolve ironclad and as spirited as Diavolo’s own, “Which is why I have come to request a consultation appointment, rather than demand you do it today. You are the only one who I want for this.”

 _Why_ rests on the tip of his tongue, but Diavolo knows the hard look in Lucifer’s eyes, the kind of determination that refuses to be ignored, denied. It’s entirely possible that Lucifer himself does not know _why_ , only that he _must_. Diavolo keeps his gaze for another moment longer, fingers suddenly twitching for a habit that he quit long ago. Barbatos would kill him if he started smoking cigarettes again anyway.

Another moment, and Diavolo allows himself to smile. 

“You could have scheduled a consultation online, you know,” Diavolo laughs, and moves from around the counter towards his small side office. 

“Come on,” Diavolo says, but Lucifer does not move, still staring Diavolo down from his place in Diavolo’s front desk area. Diavolo looks up at the heavens, exhaling ruefully, “I’m assuming you have an idea of what you want." 

Lucifer only takes a moment to shake himself out of his stupor, the cool, almost snobbish expression back on his face. 

"Of course.”

Diavolo’s laugh shakes the walls of the small office, and Lucifer’s face is, amazingly, deep red. Diavolo is hunched over, hands gently sifting through the sketches. 

“You’re _insane_. Your first tattoo and you want a fully detailed back piece? Not to mention it’s huge." 

"We’re looking at somewhere between twenty and thirty hours of work. What if you can’t handle the pain? Back tattoos can be rather painful, depending on where I’m working at the time.”

“That won’t be an issue.” Lucifer sniffs, back straight as he sits across from Diavolo.

“It’s going to cost you,” Diavolo warns. He knows what his work and experience is worth, and charges appropriately. 

“Everything does,” he says, simply. He catches the quick glance Lucifer tosses at his now bare wrist, and remembers something about Lucifer wearing one of those fancy watches last time he’d seen the other. Had he sold it?

Diavolo hums, before looking back down at the sketches in front of him.

“Did you draw these?” Diavolo asks, impressed with the amount of detail. It’ll be a challenge for sure, but if Lucifer wants to keep the tattoo exactly like the source drawing, Diavolo’s confident he can do it justice. However… if Lucifer allows him to add his own touch… it’ll be _spectacular_.

“My sister,” he hesitates on the word, and Diavolo knows there’s a lot to unpack behind that, and immediately labels that as _‘definitely do not touch’_ , “She was the artist of our family." 

Ah, _was_. Lucifer’s gaze darkens as he stares down at the papers, and Diavolo sighs. He runs a hand through his short hair, and leans back on the couch. Crossing his arms, he huffs when he looks at Lucifer again.

"Alright, you’re crazy, but it’s your money." 

**Author's Note:**

> lucifer's tattoo looks something like this: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/684412161119879186/689482431677464626/tumblr_static_csqjm0dfszs4g4044g40s4gwc.png
> 
> ART AND FICS RELATED TO THIS:
> 
> also the wonderful @lord-diavolo on tumblr wrote a porny companion piece to this: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611108
> 
> and @kibusatelier on twitter drew art as well!!! https://kibu-me.tumblr.com/post/617043580956049408/no-thoughts-only-dialuci-the-second-picture-was
> 
> anyway, leave a request for me @ indiavolojones on tumblr!


End file.
